Overheated
by Enkidu07
Summary: Too much sun and too little water leaves Dean with mild heat stroke. Started as a wee!chester Drabble for Anjelicious, but I got carried away. It's still yours if you want it, girl! Just fluff.


**Title**: Overheated  
**Author**: Enkidu07  
**Disclaimer**: The boys do not belong to me.  
**A/N**: This started out as my 'time' contribution for the E/O Challenge, but it got a little out of control. Wee!chesters for Anjelicious, though not super young (Sam - 12, Dean - 16) It is still yours if you want it!! :)  
**A/N2**: Unbeta'ed... because it's just a drabble... or was going to be.  
**Summary**: Too much heat and too little water and Dean is shaky and needy. Even at 12, Sam has his back.

--

The day is almost over but it's still hot and they've been running going on two hours. Sam's smart mouth and Dean's twitchy energy had John sending them out to pace each other around the outskirts of the Midwestern town.

Dean's aware, and kind of irritated, that his body is slowly betraying him.

His calves cramping up. His eyes struggling in the bright sun. His head pounding. His lungs seizing. And, worst of all, his stomach is pitching wildly.

He grits his teeth and pushes forward, keeping the pace quick and leaving Sam behind him.

A couple of miles and they should be back around to the small motel.

Dean suddenly stumbles on a crack in the dry earth, hitting hard, air whooshing out of his lungs and stomach cramping unhappily. He pushes to his knees, bends forward, wraps his arms around his middle, and presses his forehead into the dusty ground.

In moments, Sam falls to his knees beside him, winded and sweaty.

"You okay?"

Dean nods, dirt digging into his forehead. "Dizzy."

Sam passes his water. "Drink, idiot."

Dean sips the water cautiously. Then downs the rest of the bottle.

He makes it about a quarter mile before the water catches up with him and his knees buckle again. He staggers to the side and leans forward, retching in the dirt.

"Dude," Sam's been trailing him and sounds half disgusted and half concerned.

They walk the rest of the way; Sam letting Dean set the pace.

Dean sticks his head under the hose when they reach the motel, relishing the cold water sluicing over him even as it causes shivers to wrack his body.

As he pushes inside, John looks up from his papers at the table. "What's wrong with you?"

Dean shakes his head and heads to the shower.

He can hear Sam tattling in the background.

He's stripped to his boxers when his dad barges in.

"Dad!" Belligerent and embarrassed.

But John's concerned and redefines immovable. "Sam said heatstroke. Heatstroke?"

"Maybe." Dean shakily leans against the sink, arms crossed defensively. He feels exposed and his dad's looking at him like he can read his vitals in his eyes. He mutters, "I feel like ass. Nauseous. Dizzy."

"You take water with you? It's broiling out there. You know better than that Dean! You have to keep hydrated. You should..."

"I drank!" Dean defends. Then mumbles, "It just didn't stay down."

John barges out of the room. Dean's a little unsure of what to do - if he's off the hook or if John will come hammering back in. Dean keeps his boxers and waits a second, legs feeling wobbly, hair damp from the hose.

He hears John yelling at Sam to get on his cool down stretches and to drink some water and then he's back with supplies. He holds out a glass of water and Dean wraps a hand protectively over his stomach, shaking his head.

"Smalls sips, Dean. Not worth taking it in if you're going to make yourself sick."

Dean takes a small sip. It's refreshing and he suddenly wants more. Though, another sip and his dad's taking it away, making Dean stumble as he leans forward to try to recapture it.

"Sit."

"Dad." Dean shifts uncomfortably.

"Sit down." John can't be clearer. Dean sits on the closed toilet seat.

John's hand palms his forehead, testing for heat, and then cups his jaw, forcing bleary eyes up. "Here." He hands Dean a thermometer and levels a glare his way when Dean starts to argue. Dean slides it in his mouth as his dad's fingers wrap his wrist.

Dean is mortified in the florescent glare of the bathroom. His dad checks his pulse and temperature and threatens an ice bath.

His skin is flushed, not entirely from being overheated. His dad's hands feel cool and rough as they check his vitals and tilt his head for examination. The coolness soothes the pounding in his temples a little even as he closes his eyes and tightens his jaw against the persistent nausea.

Finally John pushes him forward, head hovering over his knees. 'Relax and breathe for a second."

The faucet runs and then a cool cloth is swabbed across his back and shoulders. He rests his head in his hands, elbows braced on his knees, and closes his eyes, feeling simultaneously relieved and acutely self-conscious.

His dad's hand comes to rest at the nape of his neck, steady and solid.

"You okay?"

Dean nods.

"Drink some more of this and then take a shower. I want to look at you again when you're done."

His dad's hand slides away and John pushes back and watches Dean get to his feet. Dean can't look him in the eye and stands awkwardly waiting for privacy. He takes a sip of the water under his dad's watchful eye before being left alone.

The shower feels good. Dean keeps adjusting the controls, first letting it cool him off and then warm him back up.

John has Gatorade and aspirin waiting for him and points him in the general direction of bed.

Dean accepts and John follows.

The misery of riding out the aftereffects of dehydration is compounded by John's endless lecture.

--

Two weeks later Sam is finishing a report for health class. _Prevention and Treatment of Heatstroke_. His lecture begins where John's left off. "You were lucky this time Dean. Don't let it happen again."

Dean pushes Sam off roughly and challenges him snidely, "And what'll you do about it?"

Sam takes it as a serious question and launches into a monologue about ice and shock and fluids.

Dean feels an ache in his chest and watches Sam talk. "You saying you've got my back?" He asks when Sam pauses to breathe.

Sam flushes, eyes skittering away. Then he looks Dean in the eye and resolutely replies. "Yeah. I've got your back."

Dean nods, eyes lightening, and pushes him again.

--

end.


End file.
